World's Collide
by Everhope
Summary: When Harry's muggle views are reaquainted with the wizarding world there are many collisions. And a fault on Albus' behalf turns Harry's world upside down! Warning - First chapter contains rape.


**World's Collide**

**Disclaimer  I don't own Harry potter. I wish I did but I don't. I do own the idea of **

**Sarah and Dave though…so Mits off. Ok, so there you have it, you cant **

**sue me**

**Rating: pg-13 due to rape, abuse and self-injuring. **

**Chapter One**

**In The Beginning**

The warm dawn light of late June filtered through the cracks of the under the stairs cupboard of Number 4 Privet drive, and young Harry Potter awoke. Why she was called Harry was a very sadistic joke to her relatives - the Dursley's. When asked they told her that her parents had despised her so much when she was born, that they had decided to name her as a boy – so that she would get the ridicule that she deserved. The ridicule part had certainly proved true, as Harry was often tortured merciless for her name, more so by the lump of a cousin whom she lived with. Dudley and his gang had certainly made sure that she would never forget how hated she was, and their favourite thing to do was to chase and beat up Harry during playtimes. Dudley was certainly the spit of his father, with the bully attitude to match. Fortunately, Dudley had moved up to Smelting's High school, a private school which her relatives were more than certain she would not attend. School to her seemed a blur. Her relatives told her she went to boarding school and would be gone soon, but she couldn't remember it. She based it on her over-tiredness and a result of the beatings.

To make her further a freak, she bore a lightning bolt-shaped scar on her forehead. She had never dared as her aunt or uncle about how she had gained such a peculiarity as when she had innocently asked about her parents when she was a toddler, she had received such a beating and had been locked in the cupboard with no food for a week. Since that day she had learnt that her inheritance from her parents, whether genetic or otherwise, was best left unquestioned, unless she wished to become even more bruised and battered than she was. She had heard them tell Aunt Margret that the peculiarity was due to a car crash, but these words seemed empty and masked as they were spoken, arousing her suspicions.

Normal life at home was no better either. The small cupboard Harry was locked in was meant to be her room. The bed she once had was removed one school day, and since then she had been forced to sleep on the floor on a pile of rags. The dingy air was no comfort either, and Harry was often straining her eyes in the dark in order to complete over-due homework well into the late night hours. As she aged, she found the cupboard smaller and less accommodating, often banging her head on the stairs above, or knocking over a broom in her sleep that landed with a crash, jerking her from her fitful slumber.

Homework was far from the only thing Harry had to complete. Uncle Vernon had insisted on giving her Dudley's chores, as "a young boy needs to enjoy the finer side of his youth." And "young females are born only to wait on those they live with" Having no true friends, Harry didn't know if this was true or not. Aunt Petunia had also made sure that Harry had her own chores that had to be completed and if she caught Harry with nothing to do, she was always sure to add to the list.

A dull thump echoed from the landing above, and Harry rubbed her eyes. Putting on her glasses she ran a hand through her cropped and messy hair. Aunt Petunia had decided since Harry had a boy's name, she deserved a boy's haircut. As Harry dressed in the second hand clothes that she has been given to wear, she heard the footsteps reach the bottom of the stairs.

"Get out here. NOW" came the sharp voice of Aunt Petunia, as she pulled back the catch on the cupboard door. Harry stumbled out, and Petunia looked down her nose at the dust and general untidiness of her appearance. Harry looked exactly the way Petunia hated. She modelled perfection on herself - her bony frame, and what most would describe as a horse-face. She wore far too much makeup for a woman of her age, and she made sure that she never had a hair out of place. She was always looking down on others and poking her nose into their business. Her only pastimes seemed to be spying on her boring, law-abiding neighbours, and looking down on her niece and putting her down. "Cook the breakfast, and hurry up. I don't want one thing ruined on Duddykins' birthday. And don't forget, I want the lawn moved, hedges trimmed, kitchen AND bathroom cleaned, and all the floors vacuumed before we get home from his party"

She returned to her work glaring at Harry as she retreated back into the kitchen.

Dudley pounded down the stairs and heaved himself into a chair. Petunia was able to spot a speck of dirt on the neighbour's car from three doors down, but she refused to admit that the "puppy fat" that Dudley was made up of was not going to be lost. Harry sighed to herself and proceeded to dish up breakfast to the already waiting Vernon. When she was finished she waited for permission to eat last weeks leftovers that we're sat in a plate in the fridge.

"Boy. Come over here!" Harry looked up, guessing that Vernon's large red face was about to go purple with rage. His tone of voice was loud and barking, much like a dog Harry mused. She was never called boy unless she had done something wrong, and to see Uncle Vernon's moustache disappearing as he screwed his face up in anger; she knew she had done something major.

Harry walked over to the table, trying to hide her fear. Uncle Vernon extended a sausage like finger, and pointed to the fried egg that sat untouched.

"What do you call that" He said, finger wavering as he tried to contain his anger.

To Harry it was just an egg. Maybe it had been cooked for a moment longer than normal, but it had looked no different to any other egg she had cooked for her cousin. When she blinked, she saw the egg had a tiny black dot on it, possibly from the fat that the bacon had been fried in moment before. She held her tongue, knowing a smart comment would not save her from the beating she was about to receive.

Without a word, Vernon's face turned purple. His rage at the insolent little girl magnified by her pride in the fact she had ruined his son's birthday. Aunt Petunia and Dudley became suddenly transfixed by the television as Harry was shoved out of the room.

Harry tried not to panic as Uncle Vernon's anger became even more apparent as he shoved her ferociously, and it was all she could do to keep herself from whimpering as her delicate frame collided with the wall. His hands sought her breasts as he held her against the wall, blocking any path of escape. His fingers greedily grasped them, and he pinned her close, pushing his rather large stomach against her.

"You're a stupid, worthless insolent little brat. How DARE you ruin Dudley's birthday. Jealous are you that he's loved when you're such a little freak that no one ever could love you? You're good for nothing and you're lucky that our goodness extends to allowing you stay under this roof, he spat. His face was so close to hers that she could smell the marmalade that he had just piled on top of the toast she had cooked for him. Once he had finished shouting at her, her flung her body to the floor, kicking her repeatedly in the sides, before picking her up, opening the cupboard door, punching her, and throwing her back inside. Slamming the grate shut so that the cupboard was consumed by darkness.

Harry waited until she was sure Uncle Vernon had gone, before picking herself up off the floor. She reached under the rags of her bed, and pulled out a mirror and a torch she had found long ago, discarded under a pile of broken objects that didn't fit in Dudley's second bedroom. Two of her left fingers wouldn't bend, and she sighed as she ripped part of her rags and tied her fingers together, supporting them with a pencil as a makeshift splint. After working through all the parts of her body that was hurting, she decided that the worst damage had already been done. There would be many bruises, more so on her incredibly skinny torso, and her breasts would be tender for the next few days, but apart from that she was fine.

The bolt on the door was slid back, and Harry inhaled. Aunt Petunia's face appeared at the grate of the door. "Stay in here until we've gone." She snarled, "Your list of chores is on the fridge." Her pointy nose removed itself, and Harry led back on her bed. She waited with baited breath until she heard the door slam, and then she quietly let herself out of the cupboard.

She knew the list of chores was left on the fridge to try and get her in trouble. It was too tempting for most people to have to go to the fridge without opening it, especially if they hadn't eaten in days like Harry – but she knew the price of stealing food. One meal would cost her more than she could afford, and she wished to gain no more of Vernon's sadistic trophies.

She took the list from the fridge and read it through. There was no way she would be able to achieve all this. The list filled a whole piece of A4 paper; most of which would be impossible with two broken fingers. Harry made a start on the dishes, deciding that the kitchen jobs would be the best to start with. As long as her Uncle had no reason to touch a knife, she was safer. This train of thought led her to tackle the garden next. She saw that it was only the back garden on her list, as a bruised and skinny sixteen year old would draw far too much attention to the reality of Petunia's home life. Petunia's pride was in her social status, and she did not want Harry's disobedience to compromise that.

After the weeding had been done, lawn had been mowed, water feature cleaned, new flowers planted, sprinkler checked and path swept, Harry ventured inside. Just as she was staring at the list, trying to work out what job to complete next, the doorbell rang.

Harry glanced worriedly at the clock. It was only 2pm, surely the Dursley's had not yet returned?

Cautiously Harry crept to the door, opening it with her eyes looking at the floor. When the large mass of her Uncle did not push past her, she dared to raise her eyes. Before her stood a young couple, only 22 in age. The man sported fashionable stubble with a hairstyle to match, dressed in a casual white shirt with plain denim jeans. He wore designer glasses that made his intellect look higher than it probably was, and they also highlighted the black specs in his eyes. The woman, supposedly his wife, was wearing a pink summer dress over black trousers. Her chocolate brown hair was up in Japanese hair sticks, and plain silver hoops complimented the silver studs that were fixed through her earlobes. A simple-cross hung on a chain round her neck, drawing focus to the warm smile that radiated from her face. Harry guessed that the woman was slim for her age, but it was natural, and her figure complemented that of her other half's.

The man extended a welcoming hand. "Hi, I'm Dave and this is my wife Sarah." Harry timidly accepted the handshake, smiling nervously at the strangers.

"Hi, um, I'm Harry"

Neither of the couple looked shocked by the girl's name.

"We just moved in next door and wanted to say hi. Things might be a bit nosey for the next few days; we've got a few friends helping us decorate. We saw you in your garden earlier though and wondered if you could use a hand with anything?" Sarah smiled, her blue eyes sparkling. Her voice sounded sincere, but Harry was wondering if this was a trap.

"No, I'm fine. And anyways, why would you want to help me?" Harry asked curiously. No one had ever offered to do something like this before, let alone acknowledged that she existed.

The couple looked at each other, and Sarah spoke. "Why not?" Harry looked at the woman, thought for a moment.

"I was grounded, this is meant to be my punishment, you know? I er, sneaked out late to visit someone and well…" harry muttered, hoping that her reasoning sounded feasible.

Sarah looked at her sincerely. "It would mean a lot to us if you let us help? Some of the garden work looked awful hard for someone of your build, and I know that every teenager sneaks out at least once in their lives. I'm sure your mum and dad would understand"

"Oh, um, they're not my parents. No, no they're my Aunt and Uncle, oh and my cousin too. I'm not sure they'd appreciate me letting strangers into their house" Harry reluctantly said, biting back the urge to welcome them in.

"They won't be back till later though will they? We won't tell if you don't? After all, who's to say that we even came here? The street seems deserted on such a lovely day" She was right of course. The sun was high and the heat intense, meaning that most of the neighbours would have gone to the beach or out into their back gardens, surrendering their need to gossip until the sun cooled. With reluctance Harry stood aside and welcomed her guests in. As the couple walked through the door, Harry closed it behind them hoping that none of Aunt Petunia's spies had seem them enter. Gossip was sure to get back to her about the new couple. Harry showed them through to the kitchen, looking at the clock nervously. Dudley's party was only just beginning. They wouldn't be home till at least 6, so she mentally calculated how long it would be safe to allow the couple to stay here. A moment too late she saw Dave looking at the extensive list sat on the table and looking at the jobs that Harry had been left to do. She knew that it did not back up her earlier statement as to why she was in the garden, but hoped that they would not read into it and ask questions.

"Want me to swap the Television from the dining room with the tv/dvd combo in the guest room?" Dave's voice said into the silence, breaking her thoughts.

"If you wouldn't mind?"

"Sure. Why don't you and Sarah do the dishes while I do this then?"

As the pair settled to start sorting the washing, Sarah looked up; taking in the slender figure of the underfed child, and the way her posture lacked confidence and security.

"I heard the row earlier. Who was your uncle shouting at?"

"My cousin. He was being impatient with his birthday presents and wouldn't eat his breakfast." Harry said. She knew it sounded believable; after all, she'd been lying about her home life for the whole of her life. She was a master at blocking out emotions and pain when it came to protecting herself from others.

"How'd you break your fingers?" Harry suddenly became very interested in the dishes, scrubbing them repeatedly.

"I caught them in my bedroom door. Got up late the other day and was in a rush for school. It doesn't matter, I do stuff like that all the time, I'm a right klutz."

Sarah paused. She could read straight through Harry, and knew that her uncle was likely to be abusing her, and she knew that Harry's lack of self confidence came from a lack of love and affection. She barely knew the girl but felt compelled to ask questions, but seeing Harry so intent on her chores resigned herself to giving trust time to form.

By the time all the jobs were completed, the couple had told Harry about themselves; who they were, here they were from, what they believed. It had surprised Harry to learn that there were Christians, but after it was said it made sense. She had learnt at school that religion promoted good deeds and helping thy neighbour and things like that, and the offer of help suddenly made much more sense. However, the way they talked of their faith was new and captivating. This was something Harry had never heard of before, and although she held no belief of a God, she listened to Sarah's views with great interest. Much to Harry's delight, they had also told Harry about how they had met. They were very young romantics, both from different parts of the country, brought together when both sets of their parents had been promoted in their jobs. They had moved to Bristol, grown up in the suburbs in the same small church, before falling in love. They had then married and moved to London in search of a better job and a fresh start, believing that God would provide for them if they followed his calling. Sarah was pregnant; three months gone and excited about preparing the nursery in the new house.

All too soon the conversation ended as Harry looked at the clock with concern. The hours had flown by, and soon the Dursleys would be returning, expecting to find Harry in her room, all chores done.

"I hate to throw you out, but I really could use a shower, and it wont be long until my Aunt and Uncle are back. Thanks for the help, it was really nice of you to do that for me, and er, good luck with the baby and all" Harry awkwardly said. Having no friends she was unsure of how to ask the couple to leave, and hoped that what she said sounded feasible and sincere.

Sarah smiled warmly at Harry as she rose from her seat at the kitchen table. "It was lovely meeting you Harry. We should make this a regular thing, meeting up when your out and such. We could help you with your chores?"

"It would be so nice to get to know you better Harry, you are an amazing and special person."

Harry blushed deeply and looked up at them both, her green eyes shining with pure gratitude. "I wouldn't want to put you out. You must be very busy people, what with the church and your new home….and the baby…" Harry started to mumble.

"Nonsense Harry, it wouldn't be putting us out at all, we really would love to get to know you better, and a few days here wouldn't be putting us out at all!"

Harry agreed, and as the couple left, she cast another uneasy glance to the clock in the wall. The Dursley's were due to return in any moment, and if they even suspected that she had help with her chores, she would be meeting the wrath of 'Sting', Uncle Vernon's beloved nickname for his belt. She winced just thinking of the state her back would be in when he was done. She decided to make sure that all the chores had been finished, and, on hearing the Dursely's flash new car pull into the driveway, she quickly bolted into the cupboard.

For a moment Harry waited with baited breathe, expecting to hear the furious shout of Uncle Vernon as he deemed one of her chores as incomplete. On hearing no shout of anger, she let out her breath and began the tedious task of trying to complete her homework with her broken fingers. She was clever, yes, but she could never reveal her full potential – the school would be sure to contact her relatives again as they had with the end of her SAT scores, and once again Aunt Petunia would accuse her of cheating, and then she would be skewered upon her sharp tongue, before being handed to Uncle Vernon to be taught her lesson. Harry looked at the pile of summer homework that sat in the corner. Math was never her favourite subject, nor English, but she did love science, especially chemistry. There was something somewhat familiar about mixing all the ingredients to make the right things. She somehow found it natural. She picked up her pencil and winced. Her fingers had fallen loose of their strapping, and deep black bruises had formed all the way along them, from the knuckle to the tip. They were swollen and painful to move, and she suspected that both were broken in more than one place. Taking a deep breath she wound the strapping tighter round her fingers, her high pain tolerance allowing her to straighten her fingers without crying out. Once she was sure that her fingers were strapped to the best of her ability she picked up a pen in her right hand and continued to write. Her letters at first were messy and scrawled; despite being ambidextrous she struggled to write with her right hand. She knew if her standards in her work slipped, then her teachers would ask questions, and questions would also draw yet another beating from the beast.

'Why doesn't she stop him doing this? She clears up the mess he makes of hitting me, but she never protects me. She was meant to look after me after my parents died, not treat me as a slave. Yet maybe they are right, maybe this is what I deserve. Maybe they're right, maybe I am a freak and are ungrateful for what they do for me.' Harry sighed as she realised that she had written her thoughts. She ripped the page out of her book and discarded it into the corner, scaring a spider as it scuttled its way back into the dingy corners that the light didn't touch. She wasn't scared of spiders, and watched it as it began to weave a web, losing her thoughts as she watched it work until she fell into a fitful slumber.

The next week Harry was given more chores to do in the garden. Petunia's drive for perfection was modelled on appearances, and in this hot weather she wanted to out do her neighbours in the appearance of her backyard. For hours each day Harry would be weeding and planting, mowing the lawn and trimming hedges. For some reason though she found it quite enjoyable, the feel of the sun on her back refreshing, and the work didn't seem so hard. Not that she'd mention this to the Dursley's though. One afternoon she was out in the garden when she heard the doorbell rang. Expecting it to be one of Dudley's gang she busied herself near the shed, out of immediate sight, in the hope that they wouldn't come looking for her to practise their bullying on.

"Come here at once" Petunia snapped as she walked out into the garden. Minutes later Harry found herself on the Ashton's door step, after being told by Petunia that they wanted her help with the chores. All too pleased to be rid of Harry Petunia had insisted that Harry could go over today and could even stay for dinner. The idea of getting rid of Harry for a whole day, along with making a good impression with the new neighbors appealed to Petunia and so Harry had miserably walked out the house and knocked on the door of the next house. 'Great,' she had thought, 'Now I get to do all of the neighbors chores too, they only wanted to help me so they could see if I would be any use to them.'

But when the door swung open and Sarah welcomed her in she found that there were no chores to be done. She waited in the hall before following Sarah into the small kitchen that was open plan and modern, with everything put away and a dishwasher humming in the background. It was comfortable, yet tidy, unlike the over tidy way that Petunia insisted on keeping things in. The large pine dining table stood proudly through the archway, and Dave was sat drinking a cup of tea and reading the days paper.

"Harry! How are you? Take a seat!"

"I thought, I thought I was here to do chores?" Harry asked nervously, expecting this to be some sad sort of joke. Like any normal person she was confused as to why she had been asked over to do chores, and now was faced with an environment that was so far from that.

"Oh no, we just thought you were more likely to be able to come if we said that. You've done more than enough work out in that heat today, so we thought it'd be good for you to have a break and let your cousin to some work. A growing boy like him could use the work."

Harry was momentarily stunned, then smiled with gratitude as a glass of coke was placed infront of her. She held it in her hands for a moment, welcoming the soothing touch of the cold of her palms as it eased the pain from handling the heavier garden tools. There was something about this place that just made her feel at ease, and Sarah was motherly and welcoming towards her, despite meeting her for only a few hours a few days before.

They spent the rest of the day watching movies, cooking dinner and talking. It was relaxing, and far from the environment she was used to. Dave asked her questions with genuine interest, about her life, herself, her ambitions. He wasn't prying and encouraged questions that Harry asked too, about his work, and his beliefs.

Once a week Harry would go to the Ashton's to do "chores" and would spend it having a great time. Sometimes they would paint the nursery together, but it didn't seem like work, they all had fun, and Sarah and Harry even ended up having a paint fight while Dave was at the shops. He came back and laughed, joining in for a while before they tided up the mess. Harry had never felt like she belonged anywhere, but the more she was at the Ashton's the more she felt like she was wanted.

After the end of June, Harry went over to the Ashton's more. She had only a month of her extended holiday left, and Petunia seemed to be glad to be rid of her. Sometimes it would be only Sarah there when she went over, and they'd sit and watch a movie or have a bit of girl talk. Harry became more and more curious about their beliefs, often asking about if God could love her. She was always intrigued by stories of Jesus' life, especially ones about how he was the Father of all. Sarah could see through Harry's eyes that there was continuing void of emptiness, needing the love of a parent to consume her.

Although the beatings Harry received grew less frequent, their intensity grew. Worse still were the days that Uncle Vernon and Harry were left alone in the house, whilst Aunt Petunia and Dudley went shopping. It was these days that Harry feared most. Her uncle held a very sick obsession and often lived his sexual fantasies out through his niece. As far as Vernon was concerned, why watch an erotic movie, when you could get it live in front of you, as you forced the creature to succumb to your will. He liked Harry's feisty spirit, although she never verbally objected she would pull away, trying to stop her fate. He never raped her, he "didn't want to get lumbered with another freak of a baby", but he always got a thrill from what he did. Sometimes he would just grope her, beating her if she did not obey his commands of where he wanted her to touch him.

A week into August, Harry was home alone, for once her relatives had trusted her not to damage their property. Vernon had made sure Harry knew what would happen if she did. Harry was going about her normal chores, whilst Aunt Petunia was at a tea party at a new café being opened by one of her close friends. Uncle Vernon wasn't due to arrive home for many hours, and therefore, Sarah had come over to keep Harry company. They were out in the back garden, laughing as they hung the washing out on the line, occasionally pushing each other into the sprinklers that were gently watering the garden. Harry ears pricked as she heard the engine of a large and expensive car heave its way down Privet Drive, but, thinking nothing of it she picked up the empty washing baskets, and walked up to the house, where Sarah was already waiting.

Walking into the backdoor Harry laughed with surprise. Her already soaked jet black hair was dripping, and Sarah insisted on making it wetter emptying a handful of water over Harry's head. Harry laughed, retaliating by pulling the plated bronze hair clip that was holding Sarah's now highlighted hair up. They were laughing so much that both of them failed to hear the condemnation of the footsteps that had just entered through the door. They had not heard the growl of rage emitted from the large grape face of Harry's Uncle, nor had they heard the ever quickening breath as his anger grew. Storming through the door, his face was a shade of purple, darker than she had ever seen.

Sarah and Harry froze instantly. Harry looked over at the monster, then back at Sarah.

"Harry…" Vernon growled.

"Sarah, please go. It was wrong of me to allow you here." Harry said quietly. She did not look Sarah in the eye, but she hoped that Sarah would understand that she must never return to this house. The beautiful friendship they had built should never have begun, and now that it had been uncovered, it was even more deadly for her to continue with it. Sarah squeezed Harry's hand understandingly.

"God Bless, Harry. I'll let myself out." With that Sarah stood up shaking as she thought of what Harry would face, ignoring the ever-darkening face of Vernon she picked up her bag, and left the room. Inside a rage burned within her, the rage of maternal instinct of seeing a child being tormented in the way she knew that Harry would be. With the closure of the door, Uncle Vernon let rip the torrent of anger from within.

"You were told strictly NO visitors. We leave you alone for a few hours, with a few simple chores, and when I return you are here, shrieking with some stranger that looks like a prostitute from the other side of town." He picked Harry up by the scruff, like he had many years ago, and began to carry her upstairs, shouting names at her all the way. Throwing her onto the bed he shared with Mrs Dursley, he turned, nostrils flaring.

"If you want to associate with that kind of person, then you can be treated like one." With that he ripped Harry's over sized clothes of her skinny body, tearing off her bra. He then undressed himself, and proceeded to do the unimaginable with such a young teen. His rough hands groped her body, as he tried to fulfil his will. Her already fragile frame began to be crushed beneath his large bones, as he continued to roughly handle her. She began to fight him wriggling and biting him as he tried to force entry into her mouth with his tongue, so taking two sets of handcuffs he attached her to the back of the bed, struck her, and then continued to rape her.

An hour later he redressed himself, threw Harry's clothes next to her, then proceeded to take out a penknife from his trouser pocket. Leaning over her, he sneered:

"Don't ever let me catch you with that woman again. Whilst were on holiday, if I hear one word…..hear me…..one word of that woman being in this house, then I will drive back here and kill you. You understand…. KILL YOU"

With that he grazed the knife over her breasts, her stomach and her arms, unlocked the handcuffs and went to leave the room. Turning around before he left he spat venomously at her.

"If Petunia comes home and finds this room a mess, even one cream pillow out of place, I'll make sure you're so bruised that you cannot move for a month. You're a worthless freak. No one could ever love you, and no one will ever believe what happens to you."

With that he moved his fat carcass out of the room, huffing and puffing all the way down the stairs.

Harry looked at her bleeding skin. The pain felt good somehow. Realising that the knife had been left, she picked it up, and slid it across the back of her wrist. It felt good. It was in her control, she could control the pain she was in, and she could control what happened to her body.

Quickly she dressed herself in the tatty and smelly clothes that she was forced to wear. The long sleeved covered her hands, and the black top hid the blood that was seeping through. The pain was the only thing that was helping her forget what had just happened to her. A thought slipped into her head. _I'm due on next week. What if…_No she thought – it didn't bear thinking about. She was too young and alone to take care of a child.

She quickly tided the room, making sure each of the pillows was arranged perfectly on the cream and tan bed. She checked the back of the bed to make sure that there was no marks from the handcuffs that Uncle Vernon had used. Once she was sure the bed looked the way it had been, she went into the bathroom that was next to Dudley's room.

She lifted the sleeve of her over large jumper, and saw the cuts that Uncle Vernon had made down her arms. She held some toilet tissue on them until the bleeding slowed, and then she washed the wound, the cold water soothing the burning sensation of the fresh cut. She then washed her hand, not daring to use soap, in fear that she may be punished severely for doing so. The rest of the cuts would have to wait. Tomorrow was the day she was allowed a shower, and they could be cleaned then. She dared not look at her face, afraid of catching her own gaze and breaking down.

Harry looked at the clock, realised the time and with a strangled squeak She run down the stairs and into her cupboard, before finally letting pain and exhaustion wash over her. She fainted away and did not hear as Dudley pounded up the stairs, nor as her Aunt looked down her nose and muttered about "That bitch faking ill. And how her poor Duddy-kins would now have to wait even longer for his dinner"

Her Aunt slapping her round the face rudely awaked Harry. She groaned inwardly as she got up and cooked supper. Just the smell of food mad her feel sick. She didn't dare look at Uncle Vernon, for fear of remembering earlier events, and letting her anger getting the better of her. Instead she continued to stare at the bottle of tomato ketchup, wishing it would explode and cover her Uncle the way that she wished her blood could have earlier.

If looks could kill she thought. Suddenly the tomato ketchup exploded, covering not only Uncle Vernon but Dudley and Aunt Petunia too. Dudley let out a wail, before running to the bathroom sounding much like a pig as he tried to mount the stairs, continuously falling over himself. Aunt Petunia's lips pouted as she wiped the ketchup from her sharp cheekbones. Uncle Vernon however remained a picture of calm. 

Harry tried not to let the nagging fear of this silence bother her. She was in for it, and she knew it. Silently she served the greasy meal to her relatives. There was bread left on the side for her, but her stomach was tied in such tight knots she feared to eat it. She slid it into her pocket, knowing that it may be her only food for a good while.

When the meal was eaten she cleared the table, and brought the wine over which Petunia had ordered for her to get out the fridge. Harry timidly picked it up and placed it on the table, before getting on with the dishes. Hurriedly she completed her chore then scuttled off to her cupboard, hoping that the vengeance of her Uncle was forgotten. No such luck.

As she opened the cupboard door an arm gripped her tightly in a headlock. She was spun around and knocked her head on the wall. Her vision swam and white dots appeared, blurring her focus. Uncle Vernon's knee met with her stomach, winding her and Harry gasped, trying desperately to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her. Keeping her head firmly locked under his arm, he reached for the belt that was hanging over the stair rail. He did not bother to introduce Sting to her this time. With one swift movement he ripped her top off and forced her into the cupboard. She was pushed to the floor with great force, and he grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. Then he brought the belt down onto her stomach, opening many of the earlier wounds. For five minutes he continued to beat her. "Oh Merlin" was all she thought as she passed out.

The Dursley's went away the next day, leaving Harry a huge list of things to be done. Vernon had put a set of handcuffs with the list that was left, as a reminder to Harry of what he had warned her.

Seeing the Dursley's drive away with a carload of cases, Sarah and Dave decided it would be safe for them to visit Harry. They had both heard the velocity of Harry's punishments since Harry had asked Sarah to leave, and they were worried for her. They knew she had not gone elsewhere, so they walked up and rang the front doorbell, and stood waiting for a reply. When Harry did not open the door they rang again. Eventually Dave shouted through the letterbox, still to the same response. While Dave was doing this Sarah lifted the flowerpot, checking for a spare key. She was intrigued that a woman such as Petunia would have left a spare key in such an obvious place. Unlocking the door they let themselves in.

Minutes later they had checked every room in the house for a sign of Harry, Dave had even checked the Garage and the shed.

"Maybe I was wrong, maybe she went away with her friends, or the Dursley's" Sarah began, apologising to her busy husband for wasting his time.

"ugh" Harry choked on the dust as she came round. Hearing a nearly inaudible groan Dave stopped dead and listened.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"That. It sounded like Harry. But it was coming from near the stairs."

He rushed into the hall, looking around bewildered. "Harry?" "Harry, it's ok, it's Dave." "Where are you, it's ok, it's safe." It then occurred to him that they had not looked in the under the stairs cupboard. He tried the handle but felt it catch on something. His blood ran cold. Frantically he looked around for the obstruction as Harry let another groan slip from her mouth.

"Sarah! Sarah I think they've locked her in here"

Sarah quickly ran down the stairs, and as Dave found the bolt and pulled it back, her heart skipped a beat.

Curled up on a pile of rags was what appeared at first glance to be an unconscious Harry. Seeing Harry's eyes flicker Dave bent down and picked her up in his arms, cradling her like a small child. Her face contorted into a painful grimace as she tried to greet her guests.

"Take it easy Harry ok." Sarah said, scraping Harry's black hair off her face. It was matted with dried blood, and Sarah struggled to hide her true emotions.

Dave gently lay Harry down on the large living room sofa, waiting while Sarah arranged cushions for Harry's head to rest on.

"What have they done to you Harry?" she thought, mentally kicking herself for not staying to protect such an innocent child.

Resting Harry's head on her lap she stroked her hair, waiting as Dave used his mobile to ring for an ambulance. Sarah noticed the lightning-bolt shaped scar on Harry's forehead and wondered what monster had put it there. The scar was much older than any of the wounds Harry had so it may not have been a part of the abuse.

Harry's eyes flickered, only seeing blurs of colour she blinked again, trying to regain focus on her surroundings. When finally she regained her focus she saw that the room was different to any she had been in before. The room had three doors: one that she knew must lead out the room, one that she supposed my lead into an en suite, and one that possibly could be a walk in wardrobe. She was led in a double bed, head resting on many lilac soft pillows, and a thick and warm lilac duvet, printed with the gentle outline of lilies, covered her. The whole room was painted very gently in purple and the modern décor was much more welcoming. Suddenly Harry realised that she should not be in this room, and she tried to get up, knocking over a glass of water with a crash as she stopped dead due to the pain from her stomach. It was then that she remembered the last thing she was put through.

Hearing the crash Sarah ran up the stairs. The panic in Harry's eyes moved Sarah's motherly instinct and she sat on the bed and took Harry's hand.

"Sh Harry. It's ok, you're safe." Harry continued to look bewildered, panic rising as she remembered what Uncle Vernon had threatened.

"Where am I Sarah? I should…. how did you…. I don't…when is it." Harry gasped for breath. "Where am I?"

Sarah squeezed the child's hand. "You're safe in mine and Dave's home. You've been unconscious on and off for nearly a week. We took you to hospital and then you came round, so they allowed you to come home. We said you were a family friend so they allowed us to bring you back here until your blood relatives return. You fainted in the car last night so Dave carried you up here."

Harry thought, and as she focused her mind she remembered being in hospital and being asked about her injuries.

"Harry, why did you tell the doctor that you weren't abused?"

Harry let go of Sarah's hand and rolled over. "I don't want to talk about it."

Sarah got up, walked to the door and looked back. She wished the child had reported the abuse, but knew that abuse was a very hard thing to be honest about. She watched lovingly as Harry curled into a ball and hugged the corner of the duvet in tighter. Harry was beautiful, no matter what the Dursley's had done, they had never managed to change that.

Harry spent many hours staring at the ceiling, both wanting and not wanting to remember past events. Harry had seen what the doctors had done to her body. They had cleaned and bandaged her arms and stomach, and they had discussed the bruising quietly with each other when they had thought Harry was asleep. One of her cuts had been stitched and she was shocked to discover it was actually the one that she had inflicted herself that was the worse. Her fingers had been strapped properly for the first time ever and splinted.

Getting up on the Saturday morning, a week after being rescued Harry was finally strong enough to have a bath. Sarah came and sat by the bath, helping Harry to bathe as she was still weak. Harry closed her eyes and sunk into the warm water as it cleansed her of Uncle Vernon's wrong doing, and as it soothed the stiffness in her stomach. She sighed contently for the first time in her life. She was surprised when she returned to her room to find many sets of clothes led out on her bed. She cut the tag off the jeans and strap top before looking in the mirror.

At the bottom of the stairs she caught sight of Dave through one of the doors, and walked into the room. Sarah and Dave were sat cosily led on each other watching Television. Harry stiffly lowered herself into the armchair next to them, and watched the program. Out of habit she looked up as a car drove down the street. Moments later the doorbell rung impatiently, Harry looked through the blinds that were hung in the window and her heart jumped. Her green eyes deepened as they widened in fear and she looked at the couple in terror.

"It's them."

**A/n: well, I updated and changed this chapter, so I hope you like it. I really could use a beta reader, if anyone wanted to, as my last beta got miffed that I hadn't updated so long. If I had a beta though I may update more, so who knows!**


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